Meditate
by Oddly Inspired
Summary: a collecton of short one shots of various genres and pairings. not really connected, per se, though some do work together. added a new, soujirocentric [of course] one!
1. Meditate

Hey yall! This is only gonna be a series of **short** one-shots, this one being the longest at 600 words. The next one is a drabble (100 words), and the one after that a double drabble (200 words). The following two will probably be around 400-500 words, so yea.

Anyway, I'm really having a lot of fun writing these, because they're so different from how I usually write, style-wise. So you can actaully expect an update.

Like I said, as it stands now, there will be 5 of these, but you never know. I might get inspired.

So, anyway, enjoy!

* * *

**Meditate.**

* * *

It was… strange.

Because… because he had tried **so** hard.

It was strange because **all** that effort had been for naught.

I… _lost_.

And he had even spared someone their life. That had not been planned.

That little omnitsu girl.

She should have been **dead** before the attack on the Aioya.

Not only had he **not** killed her, he had let her go back to help _save_ the Aioya.

I should have _killed_ her.

I had the orders to do so.

And yet…

And yet…. He hadn't.

I let her live.

**_But why?_**

Why couldn't I kill her? It's not like I **knew** her.

How strange.

I suppose that it's only because I saw in her everything I wanted to be, deep down.

Yes. She was innocent, emotional, and genuinely happy.

Everything that he had been, essentially, robbed of as young boy.

**_So young, so innocent._**

No, he did not remember ever being innocent.

I suppose that the children of whores don't really have a chance to begin with.

**No, that's not true. **

That boy who follows Himura-san around. _Myojin Yahiko…_

Yes, he seems to do just fine for himself.

But that's because he was **saved**.

**NOBODY HELPED ME. **

No. I cannot be bitter. ShiShio-san helped me immensely.

Did he?

I would never have come this far had I not tread the path of the Tenken.

If it had not been ShiShio-san, I have very little doubt that I would have died long ago.

_Perhaps_.

Perhaps… I would be alive.

But I would not be happy.

**Happy?** He has _never_ been happy. He is _not_ happy.

Were it not for ShiShio-san, I could be happy.

**No**.

I would be rice-farmer under those two brothers… my cousins?

Yes. He would not be happy.

He would be working all day in the field with no pay and little nourishment, just as he was before. He would be weak.

I am **still** weak. Did it make any difference in the end? Going with ShiShio-san?

_**No family. **_

I don't have a family now. ShiShio-san and Yumi-san were my family.

**No. **

The ninja girl.

That's her?

She is coming here? Why?

This is the market. A public place.

Does she know him?

"Tenken?"

Yes.

He saved her.

One does not forget such things.

"Makimachi-san."

I do not recall her name.

"No." She is married? "Misao."

Her name is Misao.

"Misao-san, then? I am no longer Tenken. I am Soujirou."

"Sou-kun." So vibrant, so happy. So affectionate, even to past adversaries.

But he was not really an adversary. **Not Soujirou**. That was Tenken. Soujirou _saved_ her.

"I'm going to the temple. Would you like to go?"

He had never been to a temple, as long as he could remember.

I went there once, as a small child, with my mother.

Ah, yes that's right.

**_So small, so innocent_**.

So very long ago.

"Yes. Who are you bringing the tea for?"

Her face is no longer happy, regardless of her smile. She is like him.

"Aoshi-sama…"

He understood.

It was I, after all, who made him into that monster.

"Oh. I apologize."

I have confused her. She looked up, as if expecting more.

Give her more.

"It is, in a way, my own fault he has become this way."

"Don't blame yourself."

But he did. He blamed himself for everything bad thing that has happened to her or her friends.

"You are not a bad person, Sou-kun. You saved me."

That's right. I saved her.

But for what? So she could be miserable without her Aoshi-sama?

No. To save the Aioya.

Why?

**I did not want to kill. **


	2. Enough

* * *

**It Was Enough**

* * *

His hair had grown out and he had whiskers now, but... it was still him.

He had finally come back.

Without thinking, she let herself collapse into his arms, sobbing.

He was so… solid, and warm, and… he was _here_. He was **home**.

And he wrapped his arms around her possessively.

"God, I missed you."

His voice was husk and raw and warm, even deeper than she remembered it to be.

"I've been so stupid," and, out of habit, "almost as stupid as you."

His chest shook and his rumbling laugh enveloped her.

"Aishiteru…" She smiled. "Kitsune-onna."

It was enough.


	3. Too Soon

Here's the third one! I hope you've all liked it so far! This one is 200 words (at least, it should be), and the next two are both a little longer thanI anticipated, at about 700 words. But whatever.

Thanks for all the awesome reviews so far, I'm so honored!

* * *

**Too Soon.**

* * *

He was getting old.

Too old. Too soon.

She was still so young- only 28.

He was only ten years her senior.

It wasn't apparent by looking at him. He still had a youthful face and body- outside, yes.

He was aging too fast.

His body was _dying_ on him.

If you looked closely, if you knew him well enough… you would see that the lines around his eyes weren't so much from laughter anymore, and the flashes of grey in his hair were more than just the moonlight's reflection.

His son was only five. It made him wonder.

She knows he thinks often of these things.

How much longer would he have to watch him grow?

Megumi told him- no more swords, no more fighting. Relax.

We love you.

He gave his sword to Yahiko. One last battle. It was Yahiko's Genpukku- he didn't remember his.

He thought he'd gotten that sword.

It wasn't his anymore.

Yahiko was strong. He would take care of her.

He knew.

She would cry. She would miss him.

He knew that, too.

He wondered what it was like, while he was away. He didn't want to know.

He was too old, too soon.


	4. Philosophy

Hey everyone! Thank you all so much for reviewing! You have no idea how much i love reading them! And such brilliant authors some of you are! I'm honored.

* * *

**Philosophy.**

* * *

When one has nowhere to go, then where do they go?

Perhaps, they just take a nap or something.

I don't have time to think of stuff like this…! So why am I?

Kenshin isn't around to be the philosopher anymore. I guess…. I'm just trying to fill in his spot…

She misses him a lot…

How could he just get up and leave us all like that?

But that's Kenshin for you, I guess. He always has his own reasons. Always will. He's strong, though.

It's not like he's gonna die over there. Wherever there is…

I have to do most of the cleaning now, and Kaoru has been giving me a lot more classes to take over… I don't mind.

I want to help, I really do.

Anything to take a bit off her mind, you know? She's under enough stress, what with Kenji and all…

It must be really hard on her… I hate seeing her like this…. Kaoru is the person closest to me, you know?

She's the closest to any real family I've ever had… like my sister, I guess. At least, that's how I thought of her before.

Kaoru has become much more of a mother to me than my own mother ever was.

Kenshin… was my father, in many ways.

I don't know how Kaoru does it. Everyday… she gets up, and acts so strong for Kenji.

And Kenji just… doesn't understand.

She's hurting **so much** because of that.

But it's not like I can blame him.

Kenshin did kind of abandon him… He comes home from time to time, but his visits are far and few between, and they never seem to last long enough. Kenji just doesn't know Kenshin well enough to understand why Kenshin has to do this…

I guess… I don't really understand it either.

But I'll be strong.

Kaoru shouldn't have to do everything herself.

Tsubame helps a lot, too. She's… closer to me than Kaoru, actually.

I don't think I could say how I feel about Tsubame even if you gave a lifetime and Saitou's personal vocabulary index. It would still be impossible.

I love her, I guess.

She's my best friend, but…

Sano says she's grown bold.

I guess he's right. Maybe I'm a bad influence. I don't want to be. If being around me changed her personality in any way at all, then I would rather her to never be around me. She's perfect as she is… shy and quiet and… _innocent_.

I can't say that I'm fond of the new Akabeko uniforms.

It's not because they're western, it's because it looks **good**, especially on Tsubame.

I've seen those men _look_ at her.

I don't like it at all.

She says I'm being a bit overprotective of her… am I?

I don't think I am. I just don't want her to get in any trouble. She seems to attract troublesome people to herself enough already, and then she has the nerve to go around and look all… _womanly_.

Ugh.

Yutaro's been in town lately.

He's been staying at the Akabeko.

I've been spending a lot of my free time 'helping out' there, obviously.

Because I'm a genuinely caring and helpful person.

Whatever. I don't care about him.

It's not like she's my girlfriend or anything. Or that I even _like_ her… not like that.

Right?

Damn. I don't know. I mean, I do know.

I know I love her… but am I _in_ love with her?

I think I'll ask Sano. He knows about these things.

He **_laughed_**.

Pssh, oh well. Asshole. What's he know about this kind of thing, anyway!

Yeah, I think I do love her. I mean, I think I am in love with her.

Yeah.

Now what do I do?

Do I tell her? What if she likes Yutaro? What if she likes me… as a friend _only_?

Then what do I do? I'll ask Sano.

He laughed **_again_**.

I'm gonna tell her. No, actually I'm not. I'm gonna talk to Kaoru.

No, actually I'm not.

I don't want to burden her even more.

Whatever.

I'm late for that class… Damn kids already want to move on to real swords and they can barely pick up a bokken.

But that's their problem.

Kenshin would probably say something very wise and deep to me before I leave to teach, but he's not here.

Perhaps I should think of something….. Nah... it wouldn't be right.

I never have been much of a philosopher, anyway.


	5. Paranoia

* * *

**Paranoia.**

* * *

He was so cold. 

It was a numbing, bone-chilling type of cold. Almost painful.

Everything was always painful to him.

But he was stoic. It was nothing he could not handle. He did not need her help. He wished she would leave him to himself sometimes.

But he is dependent on the tea that she faithfully brings to him.

When she came today, she was not alone. Not alone, not like him.

He could very scarcely sense it, but there it was. It was nothing but an empty spot standing next to her. How odd that there would be and empty spot in a crowd full of people…. Yes, there had to be someone there. It was him, of course.

No one else was so empty.

But he was frustrated. Like himself. They were both so frustrated with themselves.

It was cold there, too. Like himself.

She was walking up the stairs, the emptiness still beside her, but a few steps behind.

He was always painfully polite. Like him.

She kneels down in front of him and begins the short ceremony. He watches, unblinking, never looking up or acknowledging her presence. He knows he is hurting her, but it did not matter anymore.

Today was a day that he did not want her here. He did not want her to see the ghosts that plagued him today.

Sometimes, he appreciated the rest from his meditation that her visits allowed him. Yesterday had been one of those days. Today might have been one of those days as well, had she not come with **him**.

He was too alike to himself for his own liking.

They were both so haunted by demons of the past. Neither can deny that, and neither can help themselves from the shameless self-indulgence they delved into each day. They pity themselves, but accepted pity from no outside sources.

Too like him for his own liking.

Pick up the tea. Drink.

It is the same everyday. But not today, it is different today, somehow.

She is sad, resigned almost.

He is sorry to have caused that. But there is nothing that he thinks he can do.

Somehow, he was not surprised that the boy had come here. They all come back here. It takes some time. They all come back after some time.

For a moment, he sees pain flicker in the older man's eyes. The other sees the same, through the smile painted fragilely across the younger man's face.

No, both think. There is not pain.

He is stoic, because ice is the manifestation of perfection. It is hard, frozen; it feels nothing. Yet, he realizes, ice will crack, and it will melt soon after. But when it melts, it is still perfect, because it is water, free and unbound.

The pain is gone from the smile now, too, replaced by nothing. Alarming as the young man can be, the older man feels nothing but a slight indifference towards him.

Put down the cup. Thank her.

"Arigatou."

She only nods. He realizes she did not speak a word that day. He questions himself and decides on an appropriate course of action.

His eyes open, and look at her sternly. They soften.

"How are you?"

They are both taken aback, Misao and the young man with her. Good.

"I'm… fine, Aoshi-sama. Thank you."

He nods, slowly, then looks up.

"And you?"

The young man blinks. Once, twice. His eyes are wide and the smile grows a bit more as he answers, "I'll be fine, as always." He looks down and shuts his eyes, laughing a bit. But he knows he cannot fool anyone. His smile never reaches his eyes. "But what about you? How are you?"

Aoshi considers this before speaking.

_**Always so thoughtful…**_

"I am fine."

Misao finishes gathering up the tea things and stands, slowly, as if making a sudden movement would frighten the older man.

Actually, it probably would.

**Paranoia**, they call it. He knew nothing of it. Certainly not in terms of himself.

"Will you be home for dinner? Omasu is making a delic-"

"Aa."

Her eyes light up, and her smile grows, and she bounds out the door. "Coming, Sou-kun?"

Sou-kun? They were friends?

"In a moment, you needn't wait up for me, Misao-san, I'll catch up."

Ah, well. Misao could do much worse, he thinks, only slightly resentful. Okina would be, he thinks, most interested to hear this news. Friends, of course they were friends. Tenken had saved her, though he had hidden that fact well. But these things cannot be hidden from Aoshi. He is a ninja, and a very gifted one at that. There were no secrets in Kyoto that Aoshi did not know. He was not stupid, or insane, nor was he deaf, like all the people whispered as he passed.

Friends, though. That was something he doubted. There was more there, though it was not his business. Leave these things to Okina.

"Tenken."

"Yes?"

"You will stay with us, then." Not a question. Aoshi already knew the answer, there was no need at all to ask.

"It seems that way."

Aoshi closes his eyes once more and goes back to his meditation as Soujirou walks out the door, quietly, as if making a sound would frighten the older man.

It probably would.

It would probably frighten him too, actually.

Paranoia always exists in the minds of the defeated.


	6. Least We Forget

* * *

**Least We Forget.**

* * *

Some say that it all began when he first came to this town. Well, back then anyway, it was a town. Nowadays, this little town has become the center of industrialization… it is the glory of our country's new regime and economy. However, back when this filthy but prosperous city was a clean and prosperous town, it received quite an odd visitor.

This visitor was young, but his days were already numbered, as were the days of most young men back then, for those were awfully troubled days, least we forget.

Others say that it all began the second time he came here, later on, when it had become a large city. Not as large as it is now, but still, a rather good-sized place.

Still others insist that it does not really matter when it all started, only that it did.

I still have no idea why they waste so much time trying to figure such a trivial matter out, but that's just how older people are, I suppose. After all, it is not as if they lead very exciting lives anymore, not like we young ones do. The lives they used to live, though, were much more exciting than ours ever will be. That is something that should never be forgotten.

Because, all though we are the children of the revolution, they were the fighters. The soldiers, the samurais, the geishas, and the nurses. That was who they once were. They have lived through two different regimes, both corrupt, and all they want is a bit of peace, quiet and idle gossip to argue over.

At any rate, the man they are talking about is here now, he has returned for what I believe is the fifth time, to this reeking city. He has come to the port, waiting for his ship. He is sailing away to another war, one that he may not even return from.

He is not so unbeatable now, not like he was ten years ago. He has not practiced in a while, and his body pains him from his years of over-exertion. This time, he is leaving a home, where he has a wife and small son waiting. He looks so different from the last time I saw him, scarcely a year ago.

I remember going to their picnic, seeing their little son for the first time. I remember holding him, thinking that maybe he would stay now that he had a child to raise. And for a time, he did.

But he will always be a soldier at heart; will always try to atone for things he could not control. It is lucky that he has a wife who can understand him without asking too many questions; otherwise, nothing would ever be done between the two of them. They are both very stubborn people, after all. One of them is just a bit more violent then the other.

Anyway, he is leaving us once again. He stayed with us, as he always does, before venturing up the mountain, as he always does. He returned the next day, and tomorrow he will leave again. But before he leaves, we shall accompany him to the same small graveyard as always.

He will kneel and pray at her burial site, promising to remember and to atone. As if he has not done enough. He has saved so many of us. Some, he has never seen.

Through us, his lessons are taught to others. We will always strive to protect his honor- it is, after all, the only thing we seem to be able to do. We cannot possibly protect him, especially not while he continually puts himself into unnecessary danger.

We are no fools. We will not risk his work. He tried so hard to save us. The least we can do for him is to not waste his gift.

* * *

Wow, this one has been a long time coming. My apologies. I don't know if there will be any more after this. There might. I've just now started writing again after what seems like forever! To clear up any confusion, this is Misao talking about Kenshin. 


	7. Breakdown

Woo hoo! It let me upload! Sooo, I haven't added anything to this collection in quite awhile, but, as you may have noticed, I've been keeping myself busy (well, after my _very_ long break from writing) writing **Storms**, which is turning out quite nicely so far.  
By the way, I'll have chapter three for that uploaded in a few days (I've yet to edit it).**

* * *

**

Breakdown.

* * *

I've come to live for these strange, random emotional breakdowns.

I don't know what I would do if I suddenly (miraculously) got better. Shout and jump for joy? Hardly. Can you imagine such a travesty? Oh, the Tenken is happy, how wonderful for him, now his life will take an abrupt turn in the "right" direction and he'll marry some tragic heroine—preferably a Westerner, but definitely a "kick-butt" ex-assassin—and have a great time!

No, I don't think so.

First of all, I am a good, self-respecting and decent Japanese man. If I ever marry, it will be to a good, subservient, and unfailingly demure Japanese woman. Secondly, I'll never "get better." Let's face it—people don't really want me to be _honestly_ happy. No, they like the idea of a cold-blooded, depressed (yet undeniably adorable) killer. People like the concept of the Tenken too much for that to ever happen. They like to keep me faking it till I finally crack. And then, oh look, it's for another random emotional breakdown! Third one in as many days. Yippee.

I've actually begun to plan my days around them. A typical day goes something like this: wake up, eat, travel, lunch, travel, tea, breakdown, travel while still a complete wreck, dinner, sleep, dream something disgustingly morbid, or have nightmares. It's strenuous, I'll admit. But here's the funny part.

As much as I hate these breakdowns (and believe me, I _reallyreallyreally_ hate them), they always serve to clarify things—for that short time, I am able to see things in black and white, good and evil, light and dark. There is one thing that I can always count on to remain decidedly grey.

It's just a man—nothing more, nothing less. A man who doesn't even make much of a man (not that I really have any room to talk, but at least I _dress_ like guy), what with his bumbling and stumbling and humbling and… well, his pink gi and long hair.

A man named Himura Kenshin. And he is neither black nor white, good nor evil.

He simply… is. Though, if I think about it, he's sort of a very light grey; close to white.

And then I'll look at myself and I see more grey. An exact shade, equally black and equally white. And that's when I really lose it, because how can that possibly be, well… possible? Because black is black and white is white, good is good and bad is bad, light is light and dark is dark. Except it isn't, because I can see the contradiction quite clearly.

How can I even exist, if I am neither black nor white? I can't claim to enjoy it very much, the ceaseless tug-of-war between my being good and my being evil.

And a childish little part of me—because I am still a child, whatever I would have everyone else think—wants to just give up, find a place to call home, pretend to get better, have my life take that abrupt turn in the "right" direction, and marry that stupid Westerner. But another part of me—the part that has finally grown up—pushes me to continue my journey. It's only been two years. It took ShiShio-san and Himura-san both ten years before they found any sort of peace. **Grow up, Soujiro** Two years is hardly any time of all, in the grand scheme of things.

Of course, and most unfortunately for me, this internal conflict is generally the cause of an entire separate nervous breakdown that, while being quite apart from the initial emotional breakdown, only serves to complicate things. And then I have to stop traveling and take another break, and try to dodge the weird looks that other travelers, some concerned, others frightened, are giving me.

I suppose that it is acutely uncomfortable to watch such a young man completely lose control like that.

Well, at least I've stopped banging my head on the ground every time.

And pulling my hair.

And stumbling around.

And screaming till my throat runs dry.

Or, you know, otherwise trying to kill and/or torture myself.

You know, if you look at it that way, it almost seems like I might be getting better after all. And then I think that maybe that's just because I have grown so frightfully familiar with the process. This, if modern science is to be believed, would be a bad thing.

I've never really been a man of science, but I can understand how it wouldn't be considered good to get used to having emotional breakdowns. And I can understand how it wouldn't be good to clamp down so fiercely on emotion like I did for so long (and, admittedly, still somewhat do now). I can understand, but… understanding doesn't really change anything. I'm still sort of a slave to the whims and fancies of others.

Because I don't really control my own happiness, other people do. And as long as they continue to be in awe of the Tenken's ruthless and cold efficiency, I'll have to just put up with it, I guess. So do I regret it? Do I regret ever becoming the Tenken?

No, I really can't say that I do. If it had never happened, then I'd still be at that stupid farm, working for my stupid family. I'd still be weak. And really, no matter how you look at it, this world _is_ survival of the fittest. Sure, I might have taken it to a bit of an extreme (though I'm hardly to blame, ShiShio taught me everything I knew; he just sort of took hold of Darwinism and ran with it), but hey—it was all I knew.

I was just an ignorant kid, when it came right down to it. What did I know about the world, really, outside of that farm or outside of ShiShio-san's manors? Absolutely nothing. And I guess that was the problem behind my first big blow out. Maybe if I'd known a little more for myself, and I hadn't taken that truth to such an extreme, then maybe…

Maybe things would have turned out quite differently. Of course, I do wonder what that would be like. I wasn't joking when I made that little quip about Shinomori becoming a loyal anarchist—nothing was really ever organized in that setup, except that ShiShio was the boss, I was the second, Houji was the strategist, the Juppon Gatana had a few perks, and Yumi was not to be touched by anyone other than The Boss. And that's it. Those were our only guidelines, really. Everything else was subject to dispute.

It wouldn't have made for a stable national government.

At any rate, while I certainly don't regret having followed ShiShio, I also just as certainly don't regret having lost to Himura.

Even if I am a little bitter.

I mean, really, haven't I got every right to be? It's his fault that I'm like this now. And I'm sick of it. Why, if I weren't so desperately broke, I'd take up drinking! I could afford to become a smoker, but I doubt it would have quite the same effect that it does for Saitou-san. I would look pretty ridiculous while performing the act—I've got to admit, he makes it look pretty cool. But he's a badass (forgive me for being so uncouth, Yumi-san would give me a real talking to, but there are no other words to describe it). I'm not. I'm too… _cute_. Even now.

Now, I hate to come off as rude, or even as slightly discourteous, but I find now that I have to go. Unfortunately, I've wasted a lot of time by doing this, and I've gotten appallingly off-schedule. I do hope you'll excuse me, but I'm quite overdue for today's collapse.

* * *

I love writing sardonic, bitter Soujiro. As if you all didn't know that already ;)


End file.
